


Autumnus

by luemarel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hurt Lily Evans, Marauders, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-22 08:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14304894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luemarel/pseuds/luemarel
Summary: In their last year at Hogwarts, the Marauders' must navigate their lives as a war grows uncomfortable close to home.





	1. Northcott and Hastings

_12 July 1977_

The boy sat cross-legged, his petite stature polarised against the tall tree he was using as a backrest. He was quite skinny; however it was rather difficult to tell due to the large coat he was wearing. A red beanie was tugged down tightly over his mess of mousy brown hair and ears, keeping his head warm. His battered copy of _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ sat dog-eared and forgotten on the ground next to him. In his arms he was cradling at what first appeared to be a dirty mop wrapped in a Gryffindor scarf, but in actuality was a fluffy, brown screech owl, it’s bright yellow eyes drooping tiredly. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with the owl, or if it belonged to somebody. He’d been innocently reading over his new transfiguration textbook, enjoying the surprise chilly evening that had broken the monotonous heat, when the bird had fallen out of the sky onto his head.

Peter lifted a hand hesitantly and gently brushed his fingertips along the owl’s back. Its feathers were warm and soft and Peter cuddled it closer, smiling at the bird.

Peter Pettigrew loved animals. It wasn’t just that vague sort of love that most people had for them, where they’d get excited over a cute dog or talk periodically about how dragons were pretty cool. He _loved_ animals. He loved to study them and watch them and be around them as often as possible. They were so lovely and interesting; he didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t be fascinated by the creatures. It was an argument he often repeated with Remus; who point blank refused to go near Peter’s cat or his owl and loathed Care of Magical Creatures with a passion.

He gently pat the owl, trying not to put too much pressure onto any one place and when his fingertips reached the poor creature’s right wing it gave out a pathetic hoot and jerked away from him. Peter frowned and trying not to be too rough, he prodded the wing again, feeling for what was wrong. _Broken wing_.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. Aiming the tip to the owl’s wing, he waved it and muttered; “ _Brackium Emendo_.”

The owl straightened up almost instantly, stretching its wing out to test how well it could use it. With a tremendous flap of its wings (which hit Peter rather unceremoniously in the face) the owl took off from his lap, gliding up into the sky. It flew in a few circles before coming to land back down on Peter’s shoulder; where it proceeded to peck him violently on the head.

“Ouch!” Peter cried, pushing the bird off his shoulder and covering his head with his hands. “I just helped you out! You could be a little grateful.”

The bird hooted jovially, before taking off again, circling above Peter without really going anywhere. Peter frowned up at it. Even by owl standards, this one was slightly odd.

“Do you want me to follow you?” Peter asked unsurely. The owl hooted. Still frowning, Peter clambered to his feet, brushing grass off the back of his pants; his textbook left abandoned in the grass. The owl turned and began to fly towards the woods behind Peter’s house. He huffed, not particularly wanting to walk through the woods when it was almost dark on some sort of bizarre field trip, but his innate curiosity of what the owl wanted to show him won out. He walked down to his back fence, slipped through the gap that separated his backyard from the woods and began to follow the owl as they wound their way through the trees.

After around ten minutes of walking, Peter was getting tired. Night was falling quickly and the light purple sky from earlier had sunken into a dark blue. He was using _lumos_ , which gave him enough light to see, but which also cast creepy shadows that were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and putting him on edge.

“Owl?” He called, realising how completely ridiculous the entire thing was. He was talking to an owl that he’d followed into the woods in the night. He felt like an utter idiot. “How far are we walking?”

The owl hooted in reply, still sounding as cheerful as before and Peter groaned loudly, almost loudly enough that he missed the rustling noise up ahead - but not quite. He froze where he stood, listening for any further noise. After a minute, it sounded again; a rustling and a small, human whimper.

Peter didn’t hesitate. He moved forwards, much faster than before, holding his wand up to cast as much light around him as possible. After a minute of jogging towards the source of the noise, the light of his wand bathed a figure on the ground, bringing it into view.

Peter gagged, desperately wishing he could say that the thing in front of him was an unfamiliar sight. She lay naked on the ground, curled over on herself with large claw marks criss crossing over her entire body. The grass around her was entirely stained with her blood and her skin was ashen and pale. Peter tripped forwards onto his knees in the grass next to her, panic taking over him. What was he supposed to do?

_Is she what you think she is?_

The voice of reason sounded uncannily like Remus and Peter took a breath, calming himself down. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than Peter himself. He shuddered and his eyes searched her body, looking for the familiar teeth marks…there, on her thigh.

 _Werewolf,_ the Remus voice confirmed.

The full moon had been the past night and Peter knew enough about werewolves to confirm that the wounds on her body were made by a werewolf. Which meant the girl had been lying here for around twelve hours, bleeding out in the forest. That was simple enough to figure out.

The confusing part was everything else. If another werewolf had inflicted the wounds, where was it? There was no way two werewolves had gotten into a fight and one had left completely unscarred. But if the girl had been loose in the forest, it made no sense for her to have inflicted the wounds upon herself. Remus had only ever done that when he was cooped up and alone in the Shrieking Shack. Her doing that in wolf form when she could see the moon and had plenty of places to go made absolutely no sense.

Moreover, what was a werewolf doing in this forest? A chill ran down his back at the thought of one so close to his home. If she had been in a fight, surely Peter would have heard it from his home? Why hadn’t she run to the Pettigrew’s house and attacked them, or any of the houses in the surrounding area? Werewolves had an incredibly keen sense of smell and there was no way she would have stayed in the forest tearing herself up when there was a town full of muggles not fifteen minutes away. None of it made any sense. Slowly, Peter put out a hand and pushed the trembling girl onto her back…and froze.

There was a mark on her stomach. A skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, pulsing slightly as though it was alive. Peter stumbled away from her body, clutching his wand tightly in his now sweaty hand. _What the hell was he supposed to do?_ He’d seen that mark enough times to know what it was, but what did it mean here, on the stomach of the young werewolf girl?

He looked around anxiously, half expecting a Death Eater to leap from the trees and attack, but he was as alone as ever. The only other living thing besides the girl was the owl, sitting on the tree and looking down at the girl.

“What do I do?” Peter squeaked to himself. “Oh Merlin, what do I do…?”

_For fucks sake, Peter, call the Ministry!_

What in the world would he do without Remus and his slightly offensive voice of reason?

Firmly reminding himself that the voice in his head was not actually Remus, and merely a figment of his imagination, he lifted his wand and cried, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A small silver rat scurried out of his wand and turned to Peter inquisitively, waiting for a message. He was barely sure of the words that tumbled out of his mouth; he was still in a daze, only remembering at the last minute to inform them of where he was.

The rat scurried off into the air and Peter sat down against the tree, watching the girl anxiously and praying she didn’t die before anybody reached him. He wished that he could do something to help but he knew too well that there was nothing regular magic would do for werewolf inflicted wounds and all he could do was wait. The owl flew down beside him, sitting on Peter’s shoulder and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Is she your owner?” Peter asked quietly. The owl made no movement to confirm this and Peter leant his head back against the tree, staring up at the stars and almost-full moon.

A minute later there was a loud crack and several tall, professional-looking witches and wizards materialised into around the trees surrounding Peter and the light from their wands cast a bright glow over the entire area. A few swooped past him, surrounding the girl but two broke off, heading directly for Peter. He scrambled to his feet, watching the mahogany-skinned woman and her wispy-haired partner as they stopped in front of him.

“Peter Pettigrew, am I correct?” The woman asked in a brisk voice and Peter nodded wordlessly, glancing over at the girl who had been levitated off the ground and was being carried away through the forest.

“Are they taking her to St. Mungo’s?” He asked. “She needs medical attention.”

The woman scowled. “It is none of your concern, Mr. Pettigrew.”

Peter stared at the woman, taken aback by her abrupt rebuttal of his question. There was a crack as the Ministry workers levitating the girl Disapparated. A young, strong-jawed wizard who had been inspecting the scene walked over and leant down, whispering something into the witch’s ear. Her eyes widened infinitesimally.

“Thank you, Barkley.”

The wizard nodded stonily and walked back to the group of workers waving their wands around the area the girl had been lying.

“Shall we continue this talk at your home?” The wispy-haired wizard asked, his voice quiet and husky. Peter nodded wordlessly. “If you’ll hold my arm-”

“I know how to Apparate,” Peter interrupted, frowning at the wizard. The witch narrowed her eyes.

“Take his arm, Mr. Pettigrew.”

Peter started somewhat at the cold tone and moved forward, taking the wizard’s arm. The minute they made contact, the owl launched off his shoulder, flying up into the sky and disappearing above the trees. Peter was about to call out, but the man Disapparated and Peter was sucked into nothing. They appeared in Peter’s front yard, followed quickly by the witch who walked past both of them with her nose in the air. Peter followed hesitantly, overly aware of the wispy-haired wizard’s eyes on his back. The witch didn’t knock before opening the door and entering their house. Peter followed as she made her way through the house to the lounge room, which she entered. Penelope Pettigrew leapt to her feet, dropping her book on the floor.

“Who are you and what in Merlin’s pants are you doing in my house?” She demanded angrily as the witch settled onto one of the lounges, followed by the wizard who knocked Peter’s shoulder to get into the room. Peter stayed in the doorway, his hands firmly in his pockets to hide the fact that he was trembling.

“Sit down, Mr. Pettigrew.”

Peter felt anger stir in his stomach. She was inviting _him_ into his own house.

“No thanks,” he replied coldly. “I’m fine here.”

“That was not a request,” she said. Peter did not move.

“I said I’m fine here.”

They stared each other down for a long minute before the woman stood again, walking towards him. She was quite a bit taller than he was and he would never admit it, but he was slightly intimidated by her. “You should be aware that you are now a key witness in a series of attacks and therefore a _suspect_ , Mr. Pettigrew.”

“Suspect?” Penelope asked faintly. “What do you mean attacks?”

She was ignored. Peter knew the Auror had intended to rattle him with her words, but he had only really taken in part of the sentence.

“A series of attacks? This isn’t the first?”

The witch grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, rubbing her face. For the first time, Peter noticed her dark circles and slightly bloodshot colour of the whites of her eyes. She obviously hadn’t slept in a while.

“Would someone please explain what is going on?” Penelope cried, looking between her son, the witch and the wizard.

“I apologise for our intrusive behaviour,” the wizard said. “My name is Phillip Northcott. This is my partner, Dorothy Hastings. Your son happened to stumble upon an injured girl tonight who we believe is a victim in a series of attacks we've been investigating. There have been two other attacks that share an almost identical M.O. to the one your son discovered tonight. From what we understand already, You-Know-Who is working to gain support in the werewolf community, and those who are going against this-”

“Are being attacked and left for dead. Like a warning.” Peter filled in the blank. Neither of them replied.

“You have no idea how the girl got there?” Northcott asked.

Peter shook his head. “I was sitting in the yard, and this owl with a broken wing fell out of the sky into my lap. I fixed the wing and it started flying, like it wanted me to follow it. It led me to her.”

“An owl?” Hastings muttered. “It belonged to the girl?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Let us pray she survives, so that we can learn more about why this is actually happening,” Northcott said. “The others have all been dead by the time we’ve found them. It’s been a nightmare to keep quiet.”

“We’re going to need your memories of the night, Mr. Pettigrew,” Hastings said. He nodded, taking the vial she handed him and drawing the silvery memory from his mind.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, taking the vial back. “I apologise for my rude tone earlier, this case has been especially stressful.”

“It’s fine,” Peter said, not really paying attention as the two crossed the room, making to leave.

“If we need any more information, we’ll be in contact,” Northcott said, opening the front door of the Pettigrew house. “I presume you know all of this must be kept in strict confidence.”

“Wait!” Peter blurted out, spinning around. The two Aurors stopped, staring at him. “The uh…other werewolves, the ones that died. Can you tell me who they were?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information,” Northcott said, curiosity flashing across his face. “Why do you ask?”

Peter improvised wildly, “I uh…I’m scared. There are just Death Eaters and werewolves wandering around this area? What if they decide to start attacking us regular people?”

Northcott smiled, though there was a hollow feel to it. “The other attacks haven’t occurred anywhere around this area, Mr. Pettigrew. There will be Aurors watching this town now, you don’t need to be worried about another attack happening.”

“W-where?” Peter stammered. “Where were the other attacks?”

Hastings’ eyebrows furrowed. “One near Galway. And another in Carmarthenshire.”

Peter’s stomach plummeted into his feet and he couldn’t form a ‘goodbye’ as the two Disapparated, leaving the house deathly silent. Peter glanced over at his mother, who looked as worried as he felt.

“Peter, sweetheart, are you okay? That must have been horrible-”

“This is bad,” he whispered, cutting her off.

She stared at him. “Peter, darling-”

“Remus lives in Carmarthenshire.”


	2. Harbouring Fugitives

The young, ginger woman hurried through dingy streets, throwing nervous glances up at the darkening sky every few seconds. She clutched her satchel tightly to her chest, regretting the choice of donning a bright, yellow blouse before she left the house. Not only did it clash horribly with her hair, it was becoming fluorescent in the night and she felt as if there was a flashing sign above her head declaring,  _Mudblood Here! In Case You Need Target Practice, For Your Incredibly Evil Dark Arts!_

“Stupid,  _stupid_ ,” she cursed herself. She knew better than to stay out past evening, especially during a war where she happened to be a prime target for attack. She was almost running as she rounded a corner a street over from the safety of her home when she collided with another body sending them both sprawling to the ground. Had she not been so terrified after the shock of another person jumping out of nothing like that, she probably would have laughed at the cliche of the entire situation.

The boy she’d hit groaned and sat up, clambering to his feet with wide eyes when he recognised the girl.

“L-Lils?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, as if he perhaps was going to smile at her, but he thought better of it and the sullen expression returned. He did, however, hold out a hand to help her to her feet. She did not smile, batting away the gesture and ignoring the hurt that flashed across his pallid face.

“Severus,” she replied coolly. “If you’ll excuse me-”

She made to walk around him, all the more annoyed about this entire night, but Severus grabbed her as she passed, pulling her around to face him.

“Let  _go_ of me!” She snapped, wrenching her forearm from his grip and glaring daggers at the boy who was once her friend.

“Wait, Lily, please,” he begged, even as the girl turned around and started walking away. He hurried to catch up to her, walking sideways as he tried to hold her attention. “What are you doing out? It’s really dangerous right now, especially for a- especially for you.”

This caught her attention and Lily stopped, turning to look at him with blazing fury in her eyes. Severus cringed away from the gaze, taking a hesitant step back.

“I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t  _what?_ ” She hissed, furious. “What are you trying to prove, Severus? Stalling me out here at night, it’s dangerous, isn’t it? Especially for  _mudbloods_ like me.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean  _what?_ While we’re at this, why don’t you tell me what  _you’re_ doing out at this time of night. And in this part of town, too. Were you waiting around for me? Going to jump me and drag me back to your scumbag Death Eater buddies?”

Even as the words left her lips, she regretted them. They were too cruel, she saw by the painful expression that momentarily flickered over his face. No matter how much of an absolute arse Severus Snape had been in the past, she’d never descended to cheap insults, always managing to brush him off and walk away. However this entire situation was making her extremely irritated and she was sick and tired of him bugging her constantly.

"Alright, so maybe I was waiting for you,” he admitted in a rush. “Not...I’m not trying...I just saw you leave the house, and-”

“You were  _waiting outside my house?_ ” Lily shrieked, seeing red.

Severus’s eyes went wide as he realised his mistake and he threw up his hands in a surrender. “No, it wasn’t-”

“Severus, when will you get it through your thick skull that  _we are not friends!_ Maybe we were once and maybe we still would be, if you weren’t such a colossal dick, but that’s not what happened. You don’t get the privilege of helping me! You lost that a long time ago!”

She turned around and stormed away. Severus dithered on the spot for a moment and then he ran after her and grabbed her arm again.

“Lily, I-”

He was abruptly cut off as Lily Evans slammed her closed fist directly into his nose, sending him stumbling onto his back with a shout of surprise and pain. Lily breathed heavily as she stood above him, her fist still raised angrily. Severus blinked a few times and slowly climbed to his feet, clutching a broken, bleeding nose behind his right hand. He blinked tears from his eyes, whether of pain or sadness or even shame, Lily wasn’t sure.

There was a long moment as they stared at each other, she still angry but slightly regretful and he simply sad. Lily took a few deep breaths, calming herself down, before she spoke again.

“Severus. Stop it. Stop following me, stop watching me, stop waiting for me, stop looking out for me or protecting me or whatever  _this_ is.”

“I-” He seemed rather lost for words and his words were thick. “Lily, I just-”

“You want me to be safe?” She asked. “Stop stalling me in the middle of the street and just go home, Sev.”

He opened his mouth but she interrupted him.

“Sev, it’s  _over_.”

*

In line with her sudden lapse in judgement and rational thought, Lily’s rush to get home suddenly seemed unimportant. She dragged her feet along the ground, purposely going through the longer street to get back to her house in a futile attempt to calm down. It wasn’t working. She was still fuming as she slammed the door to her home, making the hallway shudder slightly.

“Lily?” Her mother called from the kitchen.

“Not now, mum!” She snapped. Typically she was polite to her mother, the two women got on well, but she wasn’t in the mood for small talk that night. Peggy Evans emerged into the hallway from the adjacent door, her face unusually pale and conveying an emotion Lily couldn’t quite place.

“Lily, darling-”

“Mum.” Lily said, breathing deeply. She was on the verge of tears and she tensed her face trying to keep them inside. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a really difficult night. Can whatever you want to talk about please wait?”

“Sorry dear,” Peggy said, her throat sounding somewhat constricted. “Your friend is here, he said it was important.”

“My friend?” Lily asked, her mind rushing through the possibilities.  _Surely_ Severus wouldn’t have been so idiotic to somehow apparate back to her house before her.

“He’s injured,” Peggy whispered and Lily felt her blood boil, picturing the broken nose she had kindly gifted her ex-friend. Lily threw her bag down angrily at the foot of the stairs and pushed passed her mother into the kitchen, ready to blast him out of her house, but stopped shocked when she saw who the person sitting in the kitchen was.

“Remus.”

He had been to Lily’s before, of course, they’d been close friends since the day they’d met, but he’d certainly never shown up to her house unannounced and injured this late in the night. He was lankier than ever, his coppery curls longer than they’d been when she’d said goodbye to him at Platform Nine and Three Quarters in June. She knew the full moon had been the night before and it showed. He looked positively ill, his skin that was usually somewhat tanned taking on a green, peaky complexion, not to mention the fresh cut slicing horribly across his nose, still red and raw.

He looked up, giving her a small smile, before grimacing in pain and looking back down into the cup of tea her mother must have brewed him.

“You look terrible,” she said blankly. There were a million questions running through her head but she wasn’t sure what to ask first in her confusion.  _What’s going on? Is something wrong? Are you okay? Why did you come here? Where are the boys?_

He chuckled. “Much better than I feel, then?”

Lily smiled softly, some of her anger from before finally stifling in the pit of her stomach. It was Remus - sick and unexpected Remus, looking very worried - but still a friendly face, one that she was pleased to see.

“What’s happened, Remus?” She asked softly, taking a seat across from him at the table. Her mother caught Lily’s eye, standing in the doorway, then nodded knowingly and disappeared upstairs, presumably to give them some privacy.

“It’s complicated,” Remus said, letting out a deep sigh and staring morosely into his cup of tea as if it had greatly wronged him in some horrible way.

The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “Whatever it it, I really don’t think it’s the tea’s fault.”

He smiled at that, finally meeting her eye, and there was something reassuring in it that made Lily feel more calm. It was hard not to feel that way around Remus with his quiet, calculated way of talking that made you feel like he knew more than you, and the excess of ugly, out-of-shape cardigans, all in varying shades of dull brown. It was something so quintessentially  _Remus_ that Lily could never quite put her finger on.

“I’m sorry for just bursting in here like this,” he apologised. “I wasn’t sure where else to go.”

Lily reached out and touched his hand from across the table. “You’re always welcome, Remus, you know that.”

“You seemed angry coming in here. Something happen?” He changed the topic. It was not lost on Lily, but she let him, knowing they’d circle back to the reason why he was sitting in her kitchen eventually.

“Severus,” Lily said in a clipped voice. “Decided it was prudent of him to wait around near my house trying to ‘protect’ me. I unfortunately didn’t share this perspective.”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“So I socked him in the face and broke his nose.”

Remus snorted into his tea, breaking out into genuine laughter which he stifled in the sleeve of his cardigan. Lily felt her mouth curl upwards into a grin. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“He didn’t really see it coming.”

“I’m sure he didn’t, what with all the grease from his hair dripping into his eyes,” Remus remarked snarkily. He was typically well-mannered and polite, out-loud and in public at least, but he seemed to have a special kind of hatred reserved for Severus Snape. Lily had once found it frustrating, but now found it understandable, and against her better judgement she smirked at the snide insult.

“I think James is rubbing off on you,” she said.

“God, I hope not,” Remus replied, looking horrified. “Lily, this is the same person who once spelt his own name wrong on the Arithmancy OWL exam.”

Lily giggled. “Oh, I remember that! And everyone called him Lames Potter for a solid six months.”

“It was mostly Sirius,” Remus admitted. The two laughed and then drifted off into an awkward silence. Lily watched her friend carefully, hoping he’d start to open up. Remus wasn’t typically the type to break down and share his emotions, but he’d always been fairly honest with her, and she hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those occasions where he seized up and refused to tell her anything.

Finally, he spoke. “I got into a fight.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but when he remained silent she spoke. “With who?”

“My dad,” Remus said, sighing heavily and rubbing his face. “He told me I wasn’t allowed to go back for my last year at Hogwarts.”

Lily perked up. “What? Why? I thought he liked you being at Hogwarts. Didn’t he say it was the safest place for you to be during the war?”

“Yes,” Remus bit, his eyebrows furrowing angrily. “Evidently he’s had a change of heart.” Remus looked around and then leant in a little further, as if trying to tell a secret. Lily matched the movement, letting him whisper to her across the table. “You-Know-Who is targeting werewolves.”

Lily’s eyes widened as she sucked in a breath. “Why?”

“We’re not sure,” Remus said quietly. “I’m not supposed to know this, it’s very secret. The Ministry has been trying to hush it all up. Dad only found out because he has a friend in the Auror office. Apparently there have been two different werewolves found dead with the Dark Mark tattooed across their backs. The more recent one was in Carmarthenshire.”

Lily finally began to put the pieces together in her mind. “Near where you live. So your dad doesn’t want you to go back to Hogwarts, he wants to-”

“Move,” Remus finished the sentence. “Far away from the war. His grand idea was to pack up and go to Australia.”

“You’d be safe,” Lily said. Remus scoffed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

“And always worrying about my friends, feeling helpless that you’re all fighting while I’m being held prisoner in another country. I have to fight in this war. I can’t leave.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I do,” Remus interrupted. “I need to, Lily. You feel the same way. So do James, and Peter, and Sirius. We’re fighting. I’m not going anywhere. Turns out my dad doesn’t like that idea very much, so we fought and he got mad and I grabbed my stuff and left.”

Lily smiled at him. “I understand. That’s brave of you.”

“Woo, Gryffindor,” Remus said dryly. She laughed, and a second silence enveloped them.

“Remus…” Lily said finally. “I don’t mean this to be rude. You know you’re always welcome here. But why did you come to me? Why not James or Peter?”

“I’m really am sorry for bursting in here like this,” Remus apologised and Lily shook her head.

“Remus-”

“I know,” he smiled. “Thank you. For not throwing me out.”

“I would never do that!”

“My dad doesn’t know you as well as the boys,” Remus admitted. “He won’t think to look for me here.”

“Ah,” Lily nodded knowingly. “So I’m harbouring a fugitive.”

Remus snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

“I guess the fugitive needs a bed,” she said, rolling her eyes sarcastically. “Unbelievable. Coming all the way over here and making me set up a  _whole bed_ for you.”

“Deal with it,” Remus said sassily and Lily sucked in a faux-horrified breath, her hand fluttering to her chest.

“How  _rude_.”

Remus’ stomach grumbled loudly and he blushed. “Lily, could the fugitive perhaps trouble you for something to eat?”

“I reckon the fugitive needs a healer first,” Lily mumbled and Remus grinned broadly.

“Nonsense. What’s a soldier without his battle scars?” He gestured to his nose.

Lily smiled despite herself, ignoring his protest as she pulled the first aid kit out the cupboard. The previous run-in off the night was shoved away in the back corner of her mind. She’d spent the entirety of the holidays worrying about how much of a mess their world was in, she’d barely remembered the good parts. It wasn’t that she was grateful that people had been killed and Lyall Lupin was behaving like an absolute ignoramus ( _or just a man who cared for his only son_ , the lingering voice in the back of her mind shouted at her), it was just…

Well, it was nice to have a friend.


End file.
